


The Fatherhood Series

by Legacy_Scarlettpeony (Scarlettpeony)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-18
Updated: 2010-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28174188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlettpeony/pseuds/Legacy_Scarlettpeony
Summary: Arthur and Merlin contemplate fatherhood.
Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Vivian
Kudos: 3





	1. The Difficulties of Fatherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur considers his children. He always vowed to be a better father than his own father had been, but connecting to one’s children is so bloody hard.

Everyone had hoped for a boy.  
  
It was considered a failure not to deliver one. Arthur hated the pressure they to put on Gwen, but she never complained. For months all the people of the court seemed to do was stare at the queen’s abdomen, making guesses as to whether the bump was high or low because—apparently—it mattered. Many were keen for her to deliver a new prince and hoped she would while others, jealous of the ‘commoner queen’, hoped that she would not. They seemed to think for some reason that Arthur would lose faith in her should she not have a son. He could not understand why; he was not his father, after all.

Arthur was more concerned about Gwen’s health and well-being than he was about the child’s gender. He watched anxiously as she past through the stages of illness, tiredness and mood swings while steadily growing bigger. It seemed one minute she was her normal, chipper self and then the next minute she was crying her eyes out because she had put her shoes on the wrong way around. She also acquired a shorter temper than usual. Towards the end of her pregnancy Arthur watched his behaviour and tried to curb his ‘annoying’ habits from risk of unleashing her wrath and killing him before he saw the child he was enduring it for.

It was during the spring months that the child put it their appearance. It was during the feast of Beltane, three weeks earlier than people expected. When Guinevere subtly tried to indicate that the pains had begun to Arthur and Merlin, the entire court went into uproar.

In the hours after the queen’s ladies had taken her away everyone stood around in the great hall, excitedly waiting for news.  
  
Arthur had escaped to his private study with Merlin’s help. He spent the hours pacing room, fearing the worst as well as the best. Every half an hour he sent grooms to ask after the queen, each time they returned saying that everything was fine. It was not until the early hours of the next morning that a messenger finally came with the news the king had longed for.  
  
Merlin congratulated Arthur with a grin before he rushed off to see Gwen.  
  
In the great hall there was celebration for birth of the new royal although there was a tinge of disappointment in the air. Arthur was perfectly content, thrilled. The thing he hated was that Gwen thought _she_ had failed him. He was disappointed with at lot of things in his life, but not with the birth his own daughter.  
  
Arthur sat on the bed beside Gwen, holding the small little synthesis of the pair of them in his arms.  
  
It hadn’t really dawned on his before then that the bump his wife had carried around inside her the last eight months was an actual person. He knew that Gwen had felt the same. Even when the baby started moving she had been more taken with the strange sensation she felt rather than the fact that within four months she would meet the child. It had frightened them a little, the thought that they would see this person every day for the next twenty-one years. But now she was here they were just gratefully that this was just the first day of those twenty-one years.  
  
“The only thing I hope is that she has the best of you and the best of me,” Arthur told Gwen. “So, that’s about three quarters of you and one quarter of me.”

“Don’t be silly!” Gwen chuckled. She leant over the warm and tiny newborn that was cradled in his arms, completely taken by the love she already had for her. “To be honest I see more of you in her than me.”

“Yes, unfortunately, that is definitely my nose.”

“You have a _lovely_ nose,” Gwen laughed quietly, tapping it.

“She has your temperament,” he pointed out, surprised at how content and silent the little girl was. “I always thought babies cried continuously but she’s not crying or making a fuss at all.”

“But she’s a fighter like you,” she stated. “She seemed to enjoy all the kicking and screaming earlier.”  
  
The child opened her eyes without a sound. The parents both looked down at the child who looked at them quizzically. Gwen reached over and tapped her nose as she had a moment ago to Arthur.  
  
“That’s my girl,” he remarked. Then he leant over to Gwen and kissed her.

And for the next three and a half years it was just the three of them, four if they counted Merlin.  
  


* * *

  
Arthur walked along the cloisters when he stopped dead in his tracks.  
  
He had simply glanced over to look across the courtyard absentmindedly when he noticed his daughter. She was sitting on the other side laughing amusedly as a young man Arthur did not recognise spoke to her. His eyes were immediately drawn to the youth with her—he was the same age as the princess with dark red hair and a pleasant smile. He seemed like a joker—whoever he was—as he made gestures with his hands while his animated face recited a story to the princess.  
  
She clapped her hands joyously.  
  
There was a lot about his daughter that reminded him of Gwen when she was young. They had the same hair, same eyes, and they laughed the same way. The way she was now reminded Arthur of how Gwen used to laugh at him during the early and tentative stages of their relationship when all they could do was flirt innocently and long for each other from afar.  
  
Arthur had a sudden thought; was history repeating itself?  
  
It might well be that this boy was something of a dueller for the princess’s love. She seemed to like him, whoever he was. Arthur wished he could recognise him. There were many men who goaded each other for the princess’s attention. She was beautiful and well-liked but most importantly she was the daughter of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere, the High-Rulers of Albion; a grand prize. And the princess usually rebuffed most male advances; she knew they loved her money more than her person.  
  
That was why seeing her being so pleasant with this youth rang alarm bells for Arthur.  
  
He thought about this as he turned away; what if this boy were nobody? The kingdom was no longer the tiny place that Arthur and Guinevere had to overcome to be together but the _entire_ island of Albion. There were princes throughout the realm who sought for the king’s only daughter, the prize she was, so to allow her to marry a ‘nobody’ would cause great upheaval...  
  
Thankfully an independent eye appeared at that moment as Arthur’s eldest son Llacheu appeared from one end of the cloisters on his way to see Merlin.  
  
“Father,” he said as they approached each other.  
  
Arthur swept his son over to him, one hand resting across his shoulders and the other pointing in the direction of the boy’s sister, “Llacheu, do you know who that boy?”  
  
The ten-year-old looked quizzically at his father before looking in the direction his father was indicating. He smiled, “The one with Arlais? That’s Mabon, Afallach’s grandson. He only came here a few days ago to visit his grandfather.”  
  
Afallach was a poor but nonetheless nobleman so it could be a lot worse. If the day came that his daughter wished to marry this Mabon, Arthur might be able to pull it off without upsetting too many royal princes throughout his realm...  
  
But the thing that was most pleasing to Arthur’s ears was this Mabon was _just visiting_. A few days or weeks would pass and then he would go, and his daughter would probably forget him. But what if she didn’t? What if she cried? What if she fell in love with him? What if she _was_ in love with him? No, not my daughter, Arthur thought. She was too sensible like her mother and too proud like her father to fall _just like that_...  
  
Llacheu looked up at his father with a sceptical face and tilted his head. “Father, are you alright?”  
  
Arthur snapped out of his thought and looked down to meet the eyes of his heir-to-be. He found himself considering Llacheu now, his eldest son and, one day, the future king. While his daughter had been a spring child, his eldest son had been a winter child coming just a few days after Christmas.  
  
He had been the son the court had longed for and the chance Arthur had waited for to prove that he could be a better father to his son than Uther had been to him. And he was proud of his work so far as Llacheu was a child to take pride in. Llacheu seemed more sensible than Arthur had been at his age, (he was first to admit he had been a spoiled brat), but that was really down to the modesty encouraged by his mother. Either way, he was a son to take delight in (and a child who caused him no worry.)  
  
Arthur smiled. “Where is your mother?”  
  
Llacheu pointed from the direction he had come from. “She’s in her quarters with Gwydre and Amhar.”  
  
“Right,” the father replied, now turning his full attention to Llacheu now. He looked in the direction Llacheu was heading, the way he had come from. “Off to see Merlin, are you?”  
  
“He said to see him before two because he has his rounds,” Llacheu explained, not really knowing what he was talking about. He was an intelligent child but still as ignorant as most people to the workings of Merlin and his magic. “I best be getting on my way.”  
  
Arthur watched as his son turned and made his way down the hallway.  
  
He smiled; in many ways he was grateful that Llacheu was ten, just half a year away from his eleventh birthday, and still had a few more years before he started to mature. The thing that startled Arthur about girls was how quickly they seemed to change from those delightful little girls that adored their fathers to rebellious creatures who started shouting after one _tiny_ mention as to whether the shoes she is wearing are appropriate for a girl her age.  
  
It was so easy for a father to forget what her age actually was.  
  
There were times when Arthur looked at Arlais and wondered where the years were going. He had seen her nearly every day since her birth. Guinevere and the children had frequently travelled with him on campaigns during times of war. As a result the family had rarely been parted in the whole fourteen years of the girl’s life, let alone the ten years of Llacheu’s, seven years of Gwydre and four years of Amhar.  
  
As Llacheu reached the end of cloisters he ran into Merlin who, it appeared, was just leaving. He noticed the young prince and smiled, “I told you to be here by one.”  
  
Llacheu scowled, “You said two.”  
  
“I remember our conversation this morning clear as day—I said _one_ ,” Merlin replied, smiling nonetheless at the child’s expression. “I’ve been waiting for you the last half hour.”  
  
“You said _two_!” the prince protested. “I’m certain you did. Besides I’ve been in training—I couldn’t have been here any faster.”  
  
That was a fib. He had spent the last half hour with his brothers, trying to give his younger siblings the benefit of his wisdom or as his mother called it ‘showing off.’  
  
“Don’t try and pull that one on me,” the sorcerer told the boy, his eyes shining slightly as he recalled the days of his own youth when he would frequently try and wiggle out of trouble with Arthur by similar methods. “I invented the whole ‘make an excuse to vex the master’ thing.”  
Llacheu rolled his eyes and folded his arms. He knew Merlin was to be respected, and his mother would reprimand him if he pouted and sulked.  
  
Merlin was very different from the boy who used to pull tricks to achieve his goals. He was a royal advisor to King Arthur, a close friend of the family, godfather to the four Pendragon children—as well as being father to his own (clever) daughter who was friends with the princess—and, above all, he was respected for his gifts and talent. But it wasn’t being able to talk to Arthur had have him listen that pleased him most; it was finally having the upper hand over the Princes of Camelot even if they were just children.  
  
Merlin sighed, “Come on, you’re here now and that’s what matters. You might as well come with me on my rounds; we can go over your lessons as we walk, _wart_.”  
  
Arthur exchanged a nod with Merlin, despite having only seen him minutes ago, and carried on towards the queen’s wing of the castle to talk to Guinevere.  
  
He turned again to look at his daughter and was relieved to see young Vivienne there too, shyly looking up at this Mabon.  
  
As Llacheu had promised Arthur found Gwen in her study with their two younger sons Gwydre and Amhar. The boys were in the larger room through the curtains where they were pretend-sword fighting with wooden swords. Gwydre had the advantage over Amhar but he was careful with him not least because their mother was so close. He kept trying to put him right in how he was supposed to hold the sword but Amhar wasn’t paying attention; he was too tired as it was nearing his afternoon nap. It was hard for Gwydre not to take it personally, though, as he had listened to _Llacheu_ when he was there.  
  
Gwen looked up and smiled the moment the door opened. “There you are! Good council meeting?”  
  
Arthur scoffed but smiled. “If you believe in oxymorons...”  
  
She smirked but was unable to say more as Amhar, at the sound of his father’s voice, dropped his wooden sword and rushed up to his father who in turn gathered the boy up in his arms.  
  
Amhar was the baby of the family at an adventurous and curious age. Arthur used to find it so hard to interact with Arlais or Llacheu when they were this age but years of experience and practise enabled him to freely play with Amhar without fear or saying or doing anything to confuse him. It was one of the glorious things about him being the youngest of four; his parents had gained experience by the time of his birth.  
  
“Why does Gwydre uses the wrong hand?” Amhar suddenly asked.  
  
Arthur blinked and looked to Gwen for an answer. She smiled, her look saying ‘Don’t ask—you’ll find out soon’. He looked to Gwydre and finally back to Amhar, “What do you mean ‘uses the wrong hand’?”  
  
“Llacheu and everyone else use that one,” he points to his father’s right hand, “but Gwydre uses the other hand, why?”  
  
Gwydre put down his own wooden sword and folded his arms, slightly annoyed. Llacheu had just spent the last half hour trying to explain to the youngest the difference between the left and the right.  
  
“We’ve told you before,” Arthur began, trying to think of a way to phrase it with more success than Llacheu had. “That’s the hand he feels most comfortable with. In the army people who use _that_ hand after very important because they are so rare...”  
  
As he explained this he watched Gwen approach Gwydre out of the corner of his eye. She cupped the boy’s face and offered him an affectionate smile to try and cheer him up before pulling him in for a hug. They then swapped, Gwen taking the tired Amhar in her arms. There were times when Arthur envied her ability to naturally apply different ‘mothering’ skills to each of their children. She made it seem so easy.  
  
Arthur picked up Amhar’s discarded sword to test Gwydre’s defence. It was slow and clumsy because he was using his right hand now. “Why have you changed hands?” he queried.  
  
“Because I’m tired of people telling me I’m using the wrong hand,” the child said grimly back.  
  
It worried Arthur sometimes how shy his middle son could to be. It seemed he had inherited his parents’ uncertainty and coyness. Gwydre was a happy child who clearly looked up to his big brother but frequently seemed overwhelmed by Llacheu. Arthur could understand; Llacheu took it upon himself as the eldest boy to ‘lead’ his younger brothers. The only person who ‘out ranked’ him was Arlais, who as the eldest overall, took her role as big sister to keep the boys in order.  
  
Arthur took the sword easily from Gwydre’s hand before handing it back to him. “There is _nothing_ wrong with using your left hand. The hand you choose to fight with could be the difference between life and death one day—I’d rather you use the hand you prefer, not the one Llacheu and ‘the others’ use.”  
  
Gwydre made a faint smile before the nurses came to take Amhar for his nap and Gwydre to his afternoon lessons. He was not very keen to go to them, as per usual, but he knew it was important that he worked hard at them. "Your brothers and I can practise together later," Arthur promised him with a wink, and Gwydre's smile widened.  
  
After the nurses were gone Arthur turned to Gwen. After a stressful morning of dealing with matters of state, discussing his plans of action with Merlin, talking to the Privy Council and worrying about his eldest Arthur hoped he would be able to ‘unwind’ with his queen.  
  
But that thought had to be put on hold as the door then opened again.  
  
In bounded the very girl whose actions less than half an hour ago had brought Arthur to his long train of thought, considering each of his children in detail he never had quite done before. He took them as they were and never thought of why they might do things and what motivated them. Their vulnerabilities convinced him that they still needed him.  
  
“Arlais!” Guinevere snapped, causing her daughter to pause at the door. “You know that it is _impolite_ to enter a room without knocking first.”  
  
“That’s just something we tell servants to keep them out of our private lives,” Arlais joked, not really meaning the words. She never forgot that she was 'half-handmaiden'. But the look on her mother’s face indicated it was not funny. The girl turned behind her and knocked on the door comically before turning around and shutting it. “Excuse me, mother. I’ll remember next time—word of honour.”  
  
Guinevere rolled her eyes and looked to Arthur; he knew she blamed him for their daughter’s ‘sense of humour.’  
  
Arlais practically ignored her father and turned straight to her mother. “Vivienne and I thought we’d take a walk in town this afternoon—I hope that’s alright.”  
  
Guinevere nodded, “Of course it’s fine.”  
  
“As long as the guard is with you,” Arthur added with paternal authority.  
  
The daughter rolled her eyes and finally turned to address her father. “I highly doubt I’m going to be attacked in broad daylight, father.”  
  
“Nonetheless,” he said soft but firmly. “I’d feel much better if you had the guard with you... if it is just you and Vivienne.”  
  
Arlais bit her bottom lip and looked away, sheepishly. Her actions finally drew the attention of Guinevere who had thought nothing of it until this moment. She folded her arms and tilted her head, “Is there someone else going with you?”  
  
The girl glanced between her mother and father as they both leant closer like two guards questioning. They were partially humouring her, and Arthur was glad to have his wife’s support in this. They waited for her to reveal all. But Arlais was not so easily cracked. “No, of course not!” she chuckled, continuing to look between them. “ _Honestly_.”  
  
“In that case,” Arthur said, not satisfied with the answer and determined now to tease his daughter to gain the truth from her, “you and Vivienne can walk in the garden. You don’t need the guard to walk there...”  
  
“Father!” the girl sulked.  
  
“Don’t ‘father’ me in that tone,” he responded with an amused chuckle. “Even if it _is_ broad daylight I like to know who you are keeping your company with. So,” he paused and tilted his head, “you can either tell me, or you can stay in this afternoon.”  
  
Arlais made an unflattering pout. She _so_ hated not getting her way and turned to her mother. Guinevere shook her head. “If there is someone else going with you we have to know who it is,” her mother told her.  
  
“Mother...” The girl knew she was defeated. She huffed out an annoyed groan and grabbed a strand of her enviably beautiful hair, realising she would have explain. “The thing is this...” she began, and Arthur waited and wondered whether his thoughts were true. She sighed, “That boy who recently came to visit his grandfather, Mabon? Well,” she paused and smiled, “he so _obviously_ has affections for Vivienne but they’re both too shy to say anything.”  
  
Gwen shook her head, “So... you have decided to play matchmaker?”  
  
Arlais tilted her head, “No—I said I’d show Mabon around the town anyway, and given that Vivienne is one of my best friends, I thought I’d put them both out of their misery and take them on a walk together.”  
  
Arthur looked at Guinevere, and then back at Arlais. “Vivienne?” was all Arthur said.  
  
The daughter nodded. “They met each other a few months back when Vivienne and her father went on that ‘mission’ thing you sent him on, to deal with those rogue warlocks. It was near where Mabon’s father lives and they really hit it off.”  
  
As he thought back to the scene he had witnessed before coming here it suddenly made sense, at least in explaining why Vivienne had been so shy. “Well,” he said, to complete his sentence, “I still think you should take the guards.”  
  
“But Mabon wouldn’t...”  
  
“Your father is right,” Guinevere added, stroking another loose strand of the girl’s hair back behind her ear. “Regardless of how good Mabon is we owe it to Vivienne’s father to ensure she, as well as you, and safe when you walking around the city.”  
  
“Exactly,” Arthur added, "Besides you’re likely to bump into him anyway—he’s doing his rounds in town.”  
  
Arlais sighed and nodded. “Fine, we’ll go with the guards.”  
  
Arthur nodded as his eldest turned to leave the room and find her two friends. She then stopped and turned back, “Is Gwydre alright? He seemed a little upset when I passed him earlier.”  
  
“He’s just having a bad day,” Gwen replied with a smile. “He’ll be fine.”  
  
“I promised him we’d pretend battle when Llacheu comes home from his walk with Merlin,” Arthur informed her. He raised his eyebrows, “I suppose you think you’re too old to play with us. Together Llacheu, Amhar, Gwydre and I intend to make war on your mother.”  
  
Arlais span around, tossing her beautiful curls over her shoulder. The fourteen-year-old teenager sunk away to reveal the child that still lay innocently in her. “Then you better watch out because I shall help defend her,” she responded, looking to her mother with a smile. “And we shall defeat you all since _we_ are better sword fighters than _any_ of _you_!”  
  
There once was a time in his youth when Arthur would have recoiled following a statement like that. But now he chuckled at his daughter’s determinism, a quality he liked the think came from both of them not just him or Gwen alone, and nodded: “That is probably true—there is nothing more dangerous than your mother when she’s holding a sword,” he then turned to address Guinevere, “Especially if she is in a bad mood.”  
  
Guinevere just smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, ignoring the disgusted moan and sound of Arlais escaping the room to find Vivienne.  
  


* * *

  
  
Lying in bed Gwen finally found a chance to speak to Arthur. Her arm snaked across his chest and she rested her head in the crook of his neck. “There’s something bothering you, isn’t there?” she said, almost feeling the murmur of worry seeping off him. When he muttered an unconvincing ‘I’m fine’ she shook her head. “You’re not fine, I can tell. I can _always_ tell. You’ve been acting strange all day.”  
  
He sighed, “I’ve just been thinking.”  
  
“About Arlais,” she asked. She could see right through him.  
  
“Mostly, yes” he confessed, “but also about the boys, too. I’ve been thinking about how sensible Llacheu is, how quiet Gwydre is and how... well, Amhar is so small compared to his sister who is... _growing up_.”  
  
Gwen took his hand and linked her fingers with his, snuggling her head closer under his chin so that her hair tickled him. In all these moments when either one of them were plagued with worry they were just grateful the other one was still there. Feeling her hand in his made Arthur think of how much he loved her, his _Guinevere_.  
  
“It’s just,” he finished after that moment’s contemplation. “I find it overwhelming. It seems like only yesterday we were here, holding her in our arms and thinking about how we had the next twenty-one years with this person.”  
  
Gwen chuckled, “She’s only just fourteen. It’s not like your fatherhood is coming to an end.”  
  
“I know,” Arthur agreed with another sigh. “I keep thinking of when she was twelve, how lovely and sweet she was then last year she turned thirteen and gained an attitude _overnight_.”  
  
“She’s her father’s daughter,” Gwen murmured.  
  
“Seeing her today with that Mabon,” Arthur went on, purposely ignoring her comment. “I’m not going to lie that I was _relieved_ when she told us it was Vivienne he was interested in.”  
  
The queen looked up and raised her eyebrows. “I noticed that; your face completely changed when she told you about her ‘matchmaking’ plans.”  
  
“He’s not the wealthiest lad in the world and every prince on this damned island want to marry our daughter one day,” he replied, trying to justify his paternal instinct that dictated no boy was good enough for his daughter anyway. “I’d hate for her to go through what I did.”  
  
Gwen couldn’t help but laugh again and rested her head against his chest again. “They’re thirteen and fourteen-year-olds, Arthur. They’re just kids discovering love for the first time. It hasn’t happened for Arlais but when it does you have to trust her instinct.”  
  
Arthur looped his arm across Gwen’s back. “I suppose I find it hard to understand how they could start so young. When I was fourteen I was more interested in jousting and sword fighting than women...” Gwen couldn’t help a ‘Ha!’ He shook his head, “Alright, yes! I had begun to appreciate the length of their legs and the size of their— _that’s_ why I was curious about this Mabon and was relieved when I heard there was nothing in it. I was his age once and I know what _I_ thought about girls then.”  
  
He could feel a smile appear across Gwen’s face against his skin. “So, you’re saying that it’s okay for Mabon to measure the length of Vivienne’s legs but not Arlais’s?”  
  
“ _That_ is Merlin’s problem, not mine.”  
  
“So much for ‘owning it’ to him to look out for her...”  
  
Arthur laughed, stroking his hand through her hair. “My point is _this_ —when I was their age I didn’t think, or even really feel, love in that way...”  
  
Gwen pulled herself up to look at him, her face reassuring. “Mabon has a _crush_ on Vivienne, they’re not in love! Even if they are—how sweet! Their first love... don’t you remember _your_ first love?”  
  
Arthur tilted his head, “What a silly question! You know that _you’re_ the only woman I’ve ever loved.”  
  
“I think you’re lamenting over lost youth,” Gwen accused him with a knowing smile. She had felt the last week since Arlais turned fourteen Arthur’s own mind had turned to his own birthday. He would be forty. “If it’s any consolation I still fancy you.”  
  
He burst out laughing, “So you’re not still sleeping with me out of pity?”  
  
She smiled, running her palm across his jaw line. It was hard not to be moved even after all these years. Gwen leant forward and kissed him warmly on the lips, an act that Arthur pleasantly responded to.  
  
“Good answer,” he said, breaking the kiss.  
  
“You’re as good looking as you were twenty years ago.”  
  
“And so are you,” he grinned, running his fingers through her hair again, “More so, in fact.”  
  
Gwen laughed, “That’s because you’re entering _the change of life_.”  
  
They both burst out laughing. Arthur shook his head: “Ridiculous! In the near-twenty years since I married you and became king I have overcome outlaws, rogue lords and kings. I united and brought peace to the whole of Albion, under the command of one king—”  
  
“And queen,” Guinevere added.  
  
“Yes, _and queen_ (I greatly appreciate the work you do for me),” he agreed, knowing that he owed as much to her as he did to himself. “I restored magic to Camelot by approving of the good and vanquishing the evil...”  
  
“Almost,” Gwen said solemnly.  
  
“Almost,” Arthur agreed, knowing she was thinking of Morgana and her ‘band’. “Thankfully Merlin keeps _her_ in check for me but otherwise—only good magic, and no evil. Besides that I have also fought battles and kept that damned death-trap Mercia in check...”  
  
“You deserve a free pass to Avalon for that alone,” Gwen joked.  
  
He rolled onto his side to face Gwen better and pulled her closer. His voice became more sincere, less general: “But for all my achievements my greatest triumph was convincing you to marry me in the first place let alone have my children.”  
  
Gwen felt a warm flutter in her heart. “And we have beautiful children.”  
  
“We are very beautiful people,” Arthur said with a smile as if to remind her of that fact. They were forehead to forehead, nose to nose. “I have nothing to feel a critical about—it’s been a well spent life so far with no regrets.”  
  
Gwen linked her fingers with his as she did before. “Then don’t worry about Arlais. We have to trust her and let her find herself. I know it’s hard—she was our first and will always be our baby. But she’ll always need us, especially you; you’re her father.”  
  
Arthur sighed, “I just hope neither she—nor the boys—ever grow to resent me.”  
  
“That will never happen,” she promised him, knowing that his fears were ridiculous. None of their children were the sort of resent and Arthur was not a man to be resented. He was _nothing_ like Uther. She then smiled, “Just stop glaring at Arlais’s ‘boyfriends’ _if_ or _when_ she has them.”  
  
He rolled his eyes. “I’m just sending the message home to them—if they touch and or hurt her, they’re dead.”  
  
Gwen burst out laughing and cupped his cheek. “You could put it a _little_ better but... that’s what makes you a good father.”  
  
And Arthur smiled again. Only when Guinevere said it could he believe it.  
  


* * *

  
  
Arlais finally found Vivienne sitting among the cloisters alone. She cheerfully skipped up to her and sat beside her, her pretty face bright and her dark eyes shining. It was enough to make Vivienne fear the worse. Her pale face was already flushing with a blush.  
  
“Hello,” Arlais began.  
  
“Oh no,” the friend groaned, tilting her head anxiously. “I know that face, I’m not going to like this... what do you want?”  
  
“I don’t want anything,” the princess assured her with _that_ smile. She then suddenly looked away in an almost gawky manner but glanced at her friend slyly. “At least... nothing for myself. It’s rather more something for _you_.”  
  
“How’d you mean?”  
  
Arlais’s smile widened. “We’ve got a date.”  
  
Vivienne’s eyes widened. “Not with...”  
  
The princess nodded, “I’d have told you when he was here before he left but it... _slipped my mind_.”  
  
The girl’s blush deepened, “ _Alis_ —I can’t!”  
  
“Yes you can,” Arlais said, jumping off the wall they were sitting on and taking one of her friend’s hands to tug her off the wall as well and to lead her towards where the guards were waiting for them. “I told Mabon we’d meet him in town, and don’t worry; I’ll be there to _chaperone_ you...”


	2. The Remarkableness of Inheritance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several occasions when Arthur and Gwen looked after Merlin’s daughter.

“Normally I wouldn’t ask this of you,” Merlin muttered.  
  
He gathered the rest of his things together. Like an absent-minded doctor he kept forgetting to put things in his pack for his journey. Arthur and Gwen watched on with amusement. He finally felt he had everything he needed and turned to face them.  
  
“Only my mother is unable to get away from Ealdor due to the harvest and I don’t want to take Vivie with me because it’s a long journey for a baby,” he went on to explain with exasperation. “Besides last time I met with Little Vivie’s grandfather was before she was born and he disowned her mother.”  
  
Gwen stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll take care of her, Merlin. Don’t worry about it.”  
  
“Yes, and if that old buffoon gives you any trouble just remind him that you have the entire host of King Arthur at your back,” the young king added.  
  
Arthur looked over the chambers in which Merlin dwelt. It remained the same as it had been three days after Vivie had been born and her mother had died. He glanced worriedly at Merlin. That had been over a year ago now, and he still worried that his friend had yet to get over the shock. During Gwen’s pregnancy Arthur had constantly feared for her life because of what happened to his mother, never once thinking that the tragedy would fall on Merlin’s family.  
  
He looked over to Gwen who was knelt beside where Vivienne was sitting on the floor, playing with coloured bricks and shapes that they themselves had given her for her birthday. She was indifferent to her father rushing about the room, remembering strange objects and devices he felt he would need for the journey. The little child arranged the bricks into groups of colour, the red with reds, blues with blues, and yellow with yellow and so on...  
  
“Daddy!” the girl suddenly called.  
  
“Yes,” the father said turning around.  
  
Merlin turned around to see that the yellow bricks that Vivienne had been playing with, as yellow was her favourite colour, were floating in the air around her head as if they were orbiting a planet. He clapped his hands though not enthusiastically as he had seen that trick plenty of times before (she had first done it when she was five weeks old) and he was still busy.  
  
“That’s brilliant, Viv” he declared before turning back to Arthur to say something. “Like I said be weary of her doing things like that. If she does it too often, tell her to stop it...”  
  
Vivienne detected her father’s lack of interest and churned a disgruntled noise. As she did the bricks hurled themselves in every direction. Gwen gasped as Merlin and Arthur ducked the assault. The bricks went crashing into the walls before falling to the ground.  
  
The two men looked at the child, worried she might to do it again. But she didn’t and laughed at their shocked faces. Gwen pulled Vivienne onto her lap and the girl clapped her hands, “Daddy sorry!”  
  
Merlin looked to Arthur again. “And be prepared to duck at all times,” he explained.  
  
“Why don’t you tell her off?” Arthur asked.  
  
Merlin sighed. “She can’t help it. I know I couldn’t when I was her age and I was a lot worse.”  
  
He picked up his bag and threw it over his shoulder.  
  
“That is why I don’t like to ask you,” he admittedly. “I mean, we all knew there was a chance that Vivienne would be like me but... well, I have learned how to handle her and my mother knew how to handle it...”  
  
Gwen picked Vivienne up. “And we can handle it too, can’t we Arthur?”  
  
“Of course we can handle it,” he said quickly, turning his head between his wife and friend. “We have a daughter of our own. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”  
  
The little girl smiled sweetly at him. Arthur smiled back; he liked little Vivie, he just felt a little overwhelmed every time she sent objects flying.  
  
\-   
  
_Merlin prided himself in being a good father._   
  
_The truth was that he had never expected to have children, he certainly hadn’t planned to. In his mind he would tell himself he didn’t mind never having a family of his own, deciding (comically) he’d latch on to Arthur and Gwen if (and when) they had their brood. At first he thought he would like the ordinary life of having a wife and children but felt thought it would never happen. His inadequateness with women alone made him think the chance of having a family was unlikely, but it was his magic that made him feel it would not be a good idea._  
  
_He didn’t wish that on anyone; moving an object without realising, waking up in the middle of the night because of voices in their head, and living in fear of Uther. The latter threat was now gone but the other two were constant and Merlin honestly had thought he would never have children._  
  
_But she had wanted them_.  


* * *

  
  
Vivienne never met her grandfather. The old man continued to shun his son-in-law and granddaughter even after Merlin went to go and see him. Instead of trying to make peace in the interest of his daughter’s child he merely placed all the blame on Merlin, saying that she would never have died had it not been for him. It hit a nerve that the warlock was very sensitive about.  
  
Yet he kept his head high and carried on.  
  
Being the royal advisor to the king and court magician he frequently had to be away from court. When Vivienne was younger Arthur had tried to limit the amount of times Merlin was away to when only Hunith was visiting Camelot and only on occasion would the situation be so desperate that she would have to be left in the royal nursery for Arthur and Gwen to look after.  
  
The truth was that Merlin did not like to leave his daughter; he was paranoid something awful might happen to her. He had enemies after all and given that Merlin, especially because of Vivienne’s natural hereditary skill, intended to train his daughter to be a sorcerer like him he knew there were people out there in the sticks that want to prevent ‘a second coming’. He was the great Emrys, after all. He went down in the ancient prophecies as a kingmaker, a country-builder and someone renowned to be wise and merciful unless provoked to deal with evil. Then he would become ruthless; he had the power to rip people apart just with his eyes...  
  
Merlin didn’t want Vivienne to be like that or be considered in similar light, but as the daughter of Emrys she was naturally considered his heir to greatness. She was also someone to for his enemies to fear. Morgana had already been to see him.  
  
“If I ever seen you within ten feet of my daughter,” Merlin had told her darkly, “Don’t think that any guilt, sorrow or past friendship between us will me from ripping you apart.”  
  
_“Charming,”_ Morgana scoffed. _“I’d be a fool not to at least try, especially since that girl will grow to be a second Emrys. Yet I will not harm her.”_  
  
_“Why would you not harm her?”_ Merlin questioned, not trusting the witch’s word. He never could bring himself to trust her.  
  
Morgana just smiled. _“She might be of use to me one day.”_  
  
After that Merlin resolved never to let Vivienne leave Camelot’s walls without him or someone else with her. From a young age he admitted to her that there were people in the world that wanted to corrupt her and turn her to the dark side. The thought had upset Vivienne, not so much the threat of bad people but the fear of what they would do to her.  
  
Vivienne brought up her fears one day when her father was away. “To don’t want to be turned bad,” she had remarked aloud one day when she sat in the royal nursery with Arlais.  
  
Arthur and Gwen had been sitting in the adjoining room, discussing Merlin’s journey to Cenred’s kingdom to try and make peace with him as well as the coming of her second child. The king constantly hand his hand on the queen’s abdomen despite the fact she wasn’t quite showing yet. It was as if he kept wishing that the child would come out as well as Arlais had, not just that childbirth would keep Gwen from harm but overall the child’s personality.  
  
That was when they heard Vivienne’s lament in the next room; she had said it very loud.  
  
As they got up and walked into the next room they noticed that a plate that had been sat happily on the table had been flung against the wall. Arlais was indifferent to it despite being three years old; she was used to the idea that Vivienne was special. However the nurses were startled as they did not usually have to deal with this strange child. It had only been five years ago that magic had been outlawed on pain of death. Uther Pendragon would have had Vivienne put to death regardless of her young age.  
  
Gwen waved the nurses away and knelt beside the child. “What’s wrong, Vivie?”  
  
The little girl was crying. Her pale cheeks were strained with redness and tears, her eyes were clenched and her already darkening blonde hair that showed very promise of being the same shade of her father’s, hung in little vines around her face.  
  
Arthur looked at his own daughter. Arlais sat directly opposite her friend and watched her, speechless. She was just over half a year older than Vivienne and didn’t quite know how to react to her friend suddenly throwing a plate across the room with her mind (something even at this age she knew she didn’t do on purpose). Arthur and Gwen had noticed Vivienne was not in the mood to play much but had assumed it was because she missed her father.  
  
Truth was she was worried about him.  
  
“I don’t want to be _evil_!” she howled.  
  
Gwen brushed one of the loose strands from the child’s face. “Why would you think you might be evil?”  
  
“Morgana does,” Vivienne wept. “Daddy says we need to say away from her. She wants me to be like her!”  
  
At the mention of Morgana Arlais hunched up and shivered. She had also been told by her parents to be weary of the witch and to run clean away if she ever saw her or came close to her. The parents had taught both girls to treat her as they would any other stranger that couldn’t be trusted, especially if she had Mordred with her.  
  
Arthur knelt beside Arlais; she leaned her head against him affectionately.  
  
“Your daddy is trying to protect you,” Gwen said softly, placing her arms around Vivienne’s shoulders. “Morgana is... a witch, and she wants people that are special like you to follow her instead of your father. But she can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, and if you don’t want to follow her then do as your daddy says and stay away from her.”  
  
“W-what if she takes me away and _forces_ me?” the child added frantically.  
  
“That won’t ever happen,” Arthur suddenly piped up, tightening his own hold of Arlais. He spoke calmly and with the dignity of a king. “Your father will protect you and so will we. Morgana knows she is not welcome in Camelot, and as long as the three of us are here she won’t dare to come here.”  
  
_Even with Mordred_ , he thought although didn’t say it. He knew it might frighten the girl more.  
  
Vivienne looked between the king and queen, “You promise?”  
  
Gwen smiled, “We promise.”  
  
-  
  
_Merlin hadn’t expected to get married let alone have children. He had never been lucky with women; they kept trying to kill him, forcing him to kill them or simply just dying. That was always the case. They were always of his kind and people he tended to feel an instant bond with, so he felt he knew best how to avoid them._  
  
_The ultimate irony was that his wife had not been someone he’d felt an instant bond with. On the contrary, he hadn’t considered her at all. He had never reason to, initially. She just literally jumped (or maybe she skipped, jumped and collapsed) into his life one day and kept turning up. Every time he thought it was the last time he’d see her, she’d turn up again. She didn’t even have magic. That was why Merlin hadn’t seen it coming—her lack of magic seemed so different to him that he never thought for a second he would fall for her any more than she would for him._  
  
_It had taken them both by surprise._  
  
_Her family had disapproved, of course. Not that she had much family. Much like Merlin she had spent a good deal of her younger years alone. From conversations with her he realised quickly that she had been a very lonely child. She had no siblings and her mother had died when she was seven leaving her at the mercy of a paranoid and patronising father who didn’t know how to relate to his daughter. In desperation to keep the young girl in order he had called on the aid of his widowed sister. The detached aunt had been just as unsuccessful at relating to her niece as her brother had been. So the girl made her own comfort, allowing her father to pander and spoil her (in his vain attempt to keep her quiet) while her aunt rattled on nonsense. She tried to tell herself she was happy, but she told Merlin she was not._  
  
_“It’s strange,” she had told him after telling him all this for the first time. “I’ve never told anyone about any of this before. Now I have I realise why so few people want to be around me; I fear everything I’ve just told you has made me a not very nice person.”_  
  
_He had told her that was not true. She said he only said that because he didn’t know her. Then he proceeded to assure her and, somehow, she ended up kissing him. That changed everything._  


* * *

  
  
Arthur walked into the nursery to see models of the stars, the moon and the sun dancing around circles about the room. He knew the source before he even looked for it.  
  
There sat in the middle of the room was Vivienne looking up at her flying objects and concentrating her mind on keeping the objects afloat. Arlais sat opposite her with Llacheu, just two years old, sitting on her lap and watching the stars in wonder.  
  
Arlais noted her little brother’s entrancement and smiled. “You’re such a show off, Vivie!”  
  
Vivienne smiled proudly, more so at her ability to keep the numerous objects in the air than Arlais’s comment. “You’re just jealous because you can’t do it.”  
  
Arthur cleared his throat.  
  
The two girls gasped. As Vivienne’s head snapped to look at the king all the painted wooden stars, sun and moon fell to the ground together with an echoing clatter. Llacheu’s attention to the floating stars was broken and he looked around dejectedly to see the entertainment was over.  
  
“Daddy,” Arlais scolded him, “You made Vivie lose her concentration.”  
  
Vivienne was a little nervous. “I-I was just practising...”  
  
“I see you’re getting better,” Arthur commented, and walked further into the room. “Once was a time you could barely stop yourself from throwing objects around the room.”  
  
“Father has been teaching me how to control my powers,” Vivienne explained.  
  
Llacheu seemed to realise that Vivienne wasn’t going to start her display again and began to whimper sadly. “ _Daddy_ ,” he whined in annoyance.  
  
“See, you’ve upset Llacheu now!” Arlais said, trying to keep him still on her lap.  
  
Arthur sighed and picked Llacheu out of her lap. “It’s time he went to bed anyway.”  
  
The little child slowly stopped to whimper as his father carried him to his bed. Gwen past them on her way into the nursery to round up the girls for their bath and bedtime; she stroked Llacheu’s head soothingly, and he cooed _‘Mummy’_ before Arthur leant over to kiss her and carried their son off.  
  
She turned to the girls.  
  
“Alright you two Emer has the bath ready so you can both get in now,” she announced. “You can then both go to bed.”  
  
Vivienne got up without complaint but Arlais stood still and folded her arms. “Why do we have to go to bed at the same time as a two year old?”  
  
Gwen smiled. “You’re not. You’re having a bath first.”  
  
-  
  
_Vivienne’s mother seemed to feel she had nothing left with her family once she found Merlin._  
  
_“I love my father so much,” she confessed to Merlin. “I love my aunt too despite how annoying she can be... but I just can’t live with them anymore. I can’t lie about you, either.”_  
  
_Arthur and Gwen were more worried about her father and aunt than anything else. The father and aunt were apparently a force to be reckoned with. Much like with Uther in regards to Arthur and Gwen it took a long time before her father found out about Merlin. That was when she finally decided she was staying in Camelot with him._  
  
_Her father had marched into Camelot with the old boot of an aunt in tow demanding that the new king order his daughter to return to him. Arthur had been stuck in a very awkward position, and not for the first time in regards to her and, or Merlin._  
  
_He and Gwen had both gone to see them both – they were ‘living in sin’ at this point – when the father first turned up at court to see just how serious this was._  
  
_But they were on Merlin’s side even before they stepped into the room. How could they not have been? They knew what it was like to face the tyrannical bellowing of a disapproving parent._  
  
_Uther had made their lives a living hell when he found out about them. At first he had treated it as a joke when Arthur told him that he loved Guinevere, unable to see any worth in the young woman. To him she was just an expendable servant that would never be worth anything. Then when Arthur’s defiance became stronger and his love for Gwen became more apparent, Uther had tried to get rid of Gwen by bringing in girls of the court and from neighbouring to try and tempt Arthur away from Gwen. He even forced Gwen to serve these women, and they would belittle her, only too aware of her relationship with Arthur._  
  
_He did everything short of accusing her of witchcraft. Even to that day Gwen was surprised (and relieved) that Uther had not stooped to that level especially given her family’s alleged history; her father’s recovery during Nimueh’s plague, her father’s ‘association’ with the renegade sorcerers, not to mention Arthur falling in love with her as he did..._  
  
_“He must have thought of saying it,” Arthur confessed to Gwen years later when the subject of Uther was raised. “I could see it in his eyes when I looked at him, how tempted he was to say those words ‘This girl must be an enchantress; why else would you love a girl like that?’ But he never did.”_  
  
_Although Gwen felt indifferent to Uther after the suffering he had inflicted on her (and others) she liked to believe that deep down he had believed in love. He could not bring himself to accuse her of enchanting Arthur because he knew that would be a lie. And Gwen could tell Uther was the sort of man who felt he had enough lies to protect without spinning more._  
  
_Unfortunately Merlin’s so-to-be father-in-law was no different. When Arthur stated to the middle-aged man that he would not force his daughter to leave unless she chose to, he damned Arthur for his lack of decisive action. It had only been shortly before that he had been praising the young king’s wisdom!_  
  
_Instead he turned his fury on his daughter who finally came out to face her father and aunt. They stood there with sour faces and ordered her to return home ‘while there was still a chance of saving her honour’. But she refused to go and said she would remain in Camelot. Her furious father then stormed out the castle, knocking several of his own guards and servants over as he cursed his daughter for her disgraceful disobedience and declared that henceforth he had disowned her._  
  
_“I have no daughter!” he had screamed twenty odd times as he left Camelot._  
  
_“Ungrateful little wretch!” her aunt agreed in unison._  
  
_It was the last time she ever saw either of them._  


* * *

  
  
Gwydre sat hunched up in the shade of a large tree in the castle grounds and watched as the other children played in the sun. His elder brother Llacheu was practising with their father Arthur and the other young boys in their drill class. His younger brother Amhar was walking across a wall under his mother’s careful guidance; as he got to the end the four year old courageously jumped off and landed into the arms of his mother. She proceeded to swing him around with her before placing him back down on the ground. Finally his sister Arlais was talking with her mother’s maids of honour, all her age at fourteen.  
  
He had always been the timid one of the children. When he was Amhar’s age he would never have dreamed of walking along a high wall and certainly would not jump off it from a great height, even if his mother had been there to make sure he didn’t fall. Gwydre was small for his age of seven and a half, and he was pale, almost doll like. It wasn’t that he was sickly as much as he was simply shy.  
  
Vivienne saw him sitting on his own and approached him from behind.  
  
“Are you alright Gwyd?” she asked.  
  
The little boy span around before sighing and looking back to the field where everyone else seemed to be enjoying the sun. “I’m alright,” he said dejectedly.  
  
She sat down beside him. “You look lonely, why don’t you play with the Llacheu and the other boys?”  
  
“They laugh at me behind my back,” he said quietly.  
  
“Llacheu laughs at you?”  
  
“No, his friends,” the boy replied with a sigh. “They think I’m a push over and laugh because I use my left hand.”  
  
“They’re just jealous because you’re special and they aren’t,” Vivienne assured him. She then nudged him with her shoulder, “Besides you’re the prince! You don’t need to take that from them; you should remind them of that.”  
  
“Mother says that I should be gracious,” Gwydre said.  
  
“Not when you’re being picked on surely,” Vivienne said with justification. “If it ever bothers you again and you don’t want to tell your parents, tell Llacheu. You know he’d stick up for you. He’s your big brother.”  
  
“Sometimes I think I annoy him...”  
  
“Don’t be silly,” the little sorceress told him. “And if Llacheu does seem a bit irate, then just tell Arlais and me. You know the boys are all frightened of Arlais. She’ll put them right.”  
  
Gwydre chuckled. “They’re all frightened of you too.”  
  
“Are they?”  
  
“They’re worried you’ll send objects flying at them.”  
  
“Well,” she replied with a smile, “if they keep picking on you I will.”  
  
Gwydre smiled sadly but hunched up again and sat quietly. Vivienne felt so sad for him; she knew what it was like to be picked on by people. Arlais always stuck up for her but there were times when Vivienne resented her father going away and her not being able to go with him. Yet she enjoyed her time with the king and queen and their children. In some ways it was like they were all a family; that was how Arthur had described it. Vivienne had come to care about Arlais, Llacheu, Gwydre and Amhar as if they were her siblings, and Arthur and Gwen had become like an uncle and aunt to her.  
  
Vivienne picked up a couple of leaves having an idea. “Gwydre look at this!”  
  
He turned look at her.  
  
She uttered the words of a spell her father had taught her that she had used many times before to entertain Arlais’s younger siblings. The younger they were the more impressed they were; Amhar was her biggest fan at the moment. Although her father’s little tricks that he did for the children were still impressive they liked what Vivienne could do too. Of course magic was a lot more serious than to use as a party game, but she couldn’t help herself sometimes.  
  
The moment she finished the spell the leaves tore and joined together to form the shape of a butterfly. She lifted her hands to keep it air born and her leaf-creation fluttered around Gwydre’s head. He smiled again.  
  
“ _Vivie!_ ”  
  
Amhar shouted her name excitedly as he and his mother came over, and caught sight of Vivienne’s trick. The leaf-butterfly landed in Gwydre’s lap and he smiled. He got up and showed it to Amhar. “Careful,” he told his younger brother as he placed it in his hand. Amhar was as good as his word and walked carefully to the shade of the tree with it in his hand.  
  
“It’s so clever!” he said cheerfully.  
  
Gwen smiled and turned to Vivienne. “I hope Arlais isn’t leaving you out.”  
  
“No, I just got bored of Lady Tesni telling me about how her hairdresser pulled her hair this morning,” Vivienne admitted with a smile. “I noticed Gwydre and thought I’d keep him company.”  
  
Amhar sat beside Gwydre, still holding Vivienne’s creation in his hand.  
  
Gwen turned to Gwydre, “Why aren’t you playing with the others?”  
  
“I didn’t feel like it,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t like Lucan or Harry because they tease me about my left-hand.”  
  
“Your father told you not to worry about that,” Gwen said worriedly. She was starting to understand why Arthur was so concerned about their son’s chronic shyness. “Anyway, the drills will be over with soon so you can play with Llacheu on your own.”  
  
“He won’t want to play with me,” Gwydre said dejectedly.  
  
Gwen leaned her forehead against his and smiled. “Not if you stay this grumpy he won’t. Come on, smile... I know you want to.”  
  
Gwydre tried to keep a straight face but quickly broke into a smile. He even laughed.  
  
“There, see” she said sitting back in the shade and brushing Amhar fringe back. “You have such a lovely smile and laugh.”  
  
Gwydre laughed again and turned to Vivienne who returned the smile.  
  
“We had word from your father,” Gwen told her. “He should be back tomorrow.”  
  
“Good” she said with a smile. She always missed him when he was away. “I often wish I could go with him. He says when I turn fourteen next month then I can go with him.”  
  
“It should be exciting” the queen said knowing that Merlin had chosen a very small and safe trip for Vivienne’s first trip outside of Camelot. The girl had only left during times of war when Gwen and the children had travelled with Arthur, Merlin and the army.  
  
Llacheu came running over with Arlais at that moment carrying a ball.  
  
“The drills are over and father says we should all make the most of the sun,” Llacheu declared throwing the ball in the air and catching it again. “Apparently it’s going to rain this afternoon.”  
  
Arlais snatched the ball from him.  
  
“Oi!” Llacheu protested.  
  
“We’re all going to play a ball game,” she declared. “Just a throw and catch game for now.”  
  
Arthur came over finally and his attention immediately turned to Gwydre, having missed him at the drills. “You’re never going to get better with a sword if you sit every drill out. I’ll have to practise with you later some time.”  
  
_Good_ , thought Gwydre. That was just what he wanted.  
  
He pulled himself to his feet. “I’ll play in the ball game, though.”  
  
“Me too,” Amhar said, coping Llacheu’s posture as he was standing right in front of him. “I want to play too!”  
  
Llacheu took the ball back from Arlais. “Why don’t we have teams?”  
  
“Let’s play boys against the girls!” Gwydre suggested excitedly, finally glad to be doing something he could enjoy.  
  
“Good idea,” Llacheu said, passing the ball to Gwydre. He turned to Arlais, “We’ll see if mother, Arlais and Vivienne manage to throw the ball in our general direction.”  
  
“Now, now, Llacheu” Arthur said cautiously. He knew Arlais would jump to the challenge.  
  
“How dare you suggest our throw is weak?” Arlais said, not too offended. “Anyway having the boys against girls isn’t fair—there are four of you and only three of us.”  
  
“Three and a half,” Llacheu corrected her. “Amhar is too little to count as a full player.”  
  
Gwen walked over and picked Amhar up. “He can be on our team then since us girls are so bad at throwing, according to Llacheu.”  
  
Gwydre laughed again. “Ha, did you hear that Amhar? You’re a girl.”  
  
“An honorary girl for the day,” Llacheu added to the joke.  
  
Amhar pouted. “I am _not_ a girl. I’m a _boy_!”  
  
The entire Pendragon clan plus Vivienne walked out onto the field. As they did Arthur turned to Vivienne and smiled, “It’s a pity your father isn’t here. He wouldn’t have mind being on the girls’ team.”  
  
“We’ll have to play another game tomorrow when he gets back,” Gwen suggested and wiggled her eyebrows at her husband. “I imagine you’ll want a rematch after we beat you today.”  


* * *

  
  
_The displeasure of her father had shaken the young woman greatly. After her father had left she had turned to Merlin. She begged him never to leave her. He promised, but did not ask her to do the same. It was as if even at that point he knew it would all end tragically. Nonetheless they were happy, marrying shortly after that little episode. It had been a quiet ceremony with just Arthur and Gwen as witnesses._  
  
_She had taken Gwen to one side afterward._  
  
_“Did Uther ever forgive Arthur?” she asked sadly._  
  
_Gwen had admittedly been taken aback by the young woman’s statement as it sounded as if there was something wrong with loving her, but she knew what she meant._  
  
_“Well,” she had replied softly, glancing over at Arthur and Merlin, “Before Uther was assassinated he did seem to have... a change of heart. He opposed Arthur’s relationship with me to the bitter end, but he stopped trying to... hurt me. I think he knew his time was coming and he didn’t want to die on a bitter note with Arthur. I wasn’t the only reason Arthur had resented his father; Uther told many lies in his time.”_  
  
_“Haven’t all kings?” the other woman had said, glancing over at Merlin. She sighed, “I can’t explain why I cannot bring myself to leave. It’s like... he’s my kindred spirit. I know I don’t have magic or anything but... he was such a lonely person, and so was I.”_  
  
_She turned back to Gwen._  
  
_“Does that seem strange?”_  
  
_“Not at all,” Gwen replied with a smile. “God knows I tried to convince myself so many times that I shouldn’t love Arthur... but I couldn’t keep away from him. We were like moths around a flame; you can’t choose who you fall in love with.”_  
  
_When they had first met Gwen did not like the woman at all. It was for various reasons but she had been on tenterhooks when she realised that she and Merlin were ‘a thing’. That was also when her opinion changed; Merlin brought out the best in her and she ironically brought out another side of him, a side of him that was not constantly dominated by magic._  
  
_The first activity they had ever done together was clearing out Gaius’s old chambers than Merlin used to store all his magic implements and books. The newly-weds were offered larger accommodation in the castle (As it was not fitting for a royal advisor with a new wife to remain where he was living now) but the moment she caught sight of ‘Merlin’s workshop’ as she called it, she immediately wanted to tidy it. Shortly after in the autumn Gwen found out she was pregnant with Arlais._  
  
_On reflection Gwen wished she had had more time to form a friendship with her friend’s wife. They were friends but they could have been much closer._  


* * *

  
  
Vivienne returned home to find her father struggling with a pile of books balanced in his arms. She dropped the basket of ingredients for potions that she was carrying and rushed over to aid him.  
  
“It’s alright, daddy!” she called affectionately, “I’ll help you with that.”  
  
And she took four of the top books to help him move them to their destination, the work bench.  
  
Once they were freed from the heavy bound pieces of paper she laughed, “What are you moving them for?”  
  
Merlin looked at his daughter and smiled. “I thought I would clean the shelves, sort out the rubbish from worth-while spell books. There are some things here I haven’t looked at in years...” The fourteen year old girl dropped onto a small stool, grabbed a strand of her dark hair and chuckled as she played with it. The father raised an eyebrow, “What’s so funny about that?”  
  
The girl looked up at him, “You always say you’re going to clear everything out and everything _always_ stays on the shelves where it has always been.”  
  
“That is not true,” Merlin said, brushing the dust off the books.  
  
“Is so!” she shot back, “There are some things that haven’t even moved from the shelves since I was born!”  
  
Merlin looked around the room. It was still the same old chambers he had always lived in Camelot although it looked very different from when he first came.  
  
After Gaius died Merlin had sorted through all his notes, his life’s work in order to discover which books would be of most use to him in his new job as royal advisor. The medical and herbal books he had given to the court healer, while his notes on prescriptions were passed on to Afallach, the new court physician. It had depressed Merlin to no end and ever since he had hated clearing out anything.  
  
They didn’t live there now but they stilled used it as an office and ‘teaching room’ for magic.  
  
It was filled with relics from his ‘past lives’. Up the staircase was where Merlin kept all his magic books as well as those that helped with work; books of history and philosophy. They were all things that widened his knowledge and wisdom. The shelves on the ground floor near the work bench were stacked with jars of ingredients for potions, enchantments and other spells. Bowls and equipment that had once lived on the workbench now lived on these shelves, prettily slacked according to size.  
  
Everything had its place and the order had been maintained since Vivienne was old enough to organise it.  
  
She is very much like her mother, Merlin reflected sadly.  
  
Her mother had loved everything to be neatly organised and coordinated. She had always been like that since before she swept into his ‘office’ and turned it into her own personal creation. It was a sanctuary that Vivienne now unwittingly maintained. She kept her mother’s system going despite having only known her the long and painful one and a half days it took for her to die after Vivienne’s birth.  
  
Merlin looked sombrely over to a beautifully decorated screen that ran across the wall. That had been another feature Vivienne’s mother had insisted on bringing with her when she moved away to live in Camelot.  
  
That was the last alteration Merlin made to the room as he attempted then on to keep everything as Vivienne’s mother had left it the day she entered confinement in the room that was now their daughter’s and never came out.  
  
He looked to the wall that rested just beside the screen. There stood another memento to his dead lover, her collection of coloured glass vases. They were all arranged like a rainbow in accordance to hue and colour, similar to how Vivienne arranged the pots and jars they used for practical use.  
  
Merlin looked back at his daughter. She was hunched over a book of enchantments, keen as always to learn the trade of her father.  
  
It shocked him to think she was already fourteen. He had more or less raised her himself although Arthur and Gwen and his mother helped in every way they could. But Merlin had always felt determined to raise Vivienne _how he wanted_.  
  
There were naturally times when he feared that his daughter lacked that important mother figure in her life. He was not short of kind, intelligent and crafty sorceresses who were keen to sweep her off to be trained in the old ways and, for a brief moment, he had even wondered if such an upbringing was best. He wanted the best for Vivienne.  
  
He had been so desperate that he consulted the Lady of the Lake. She had been sympathetic as always and listened to him.  
  
“It is ultimately down to you” her echoing voice had told him. “Although the high priestesses of our religion would teach her magic craft deftly they will not give her maternal affection. It is better for you to teach her the skills of magic. You must be both mother and father to her. You must keep her moral—would you want her to end up like Nimueh, or Morgause... or Morgana?”  
  
The mention of Morgana had sent a shiver down his spine. If anything ever happened to Vivienne because of _that witch_ he would track her down to the ends of the earth and tear her – and her associates – apart.  
  
“Dad, are you alright?” asked Vivienne, curiously.  
  
Merlin smiled. “I’m fine, _Vivie_. I was just... lost in my own thoughts.”  
  
Vivienne nodded, “So what are you going to do?”  
  
He blinked, “About what?”  
  
She tilted her head, strands of her long dark hair falling along her shoulder as she did, “Your books.”  
  
“Oh,” Merlin said, looking down at the bench, reminded of his original purpose. He sighed, who was he kidding planning to ‘get rid’ of spell books? He groaned, “Oh, forget it—I’ll put them back later.”  
  
He sat down in the chair opposite Vivienne and noticed a smile creep across her face. It was his smile, and he knew what it meant before she said the words. “I rest my case,” she chuckled.  
  
Merlin rolled his eyes. “You sound just like your mother when you say that!”  
  
“Well she was right!”


	3. The Consideration of Daughters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is Yuletide in Camelot. As court are eagerly awaits the birth of the royal couple’s latest child Arthur and Guinevere's daughter has some very awkward questions to ask her father about babies.

Everyone was _still_ hoping for a boy.  
  
After nearly four years the people had never quite got over the fact the first royal child of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere _wasn’t_ a boy. The obsession that the court had over whether or not they were finally going to get their once and future crowned prince irritated Arthur to no end. He was in a worse temper than Gwen was about the issue and _she_ was the one who was heavily pregnant at nine months, ready to drop the child at any moment. Remembering what a bad mood Gwen had been last time she was pregnant made Arthur’s bad mood quite an achievement.  
  
But it really was annoying as every time they sat down for a meal it was all people could talk about; would she have a boy, or _another_ girl?  
  
Not that there was any resentment to Lady Arlais of Camelot, the once and future princess of the realm. The title ‘Princess’ had not been used for many years as under the Pendragon dynasty as the entire family had been male dominated. It seemed strange to people of the court and even to Arthur and Gwen themselves that their daughter at just three and a half years old was already being referred to as ‘Lady’.  
  
Yet the thing that plagued the court’s mind was whether Arlais would ever be in line for the throne. If this next child were another girl and any other children the king and queen had were all girls that would mean that Arlais, as the eldest, would be natural heir to the throne of Camelot. This worried the sad old men who did not think women were capable of ‘ruling alone’. They had tried to say this in the most tactful way possible (very weary of the way Queen Guinevere’s eyes narrowed when they raised the subject) that the king, though still very young, should make a will making clear the line of succession.  
  
“The territory of Camelot grows day by day, my lord,” the very old Sir Ector told Arthur. “Each battle you win and each old king that dies heirless expands the reach of your influence. You are young but you are a warrior—anything could happen to you.”  
  
For the last five years since Arthur became king the borders were expanding. Just as the famous prophecy had foretold Arthur was slowly but surely uniting the lands of Albion. During that time he had been in the best of health albeit frequently acquiring more scars than Gwen could get her tongue around.  
  
It annoyed him to no end when the succession issue came up. Uther had been obsessed with the succession during his life and Arthur felt strange that the issue didn’t bother him nearly as much.  
  
Arthur was determined not to make his position over the succession clear. He was just in his twenties and had only one child with another on the way. He didn’t feel the need to make public knowledge of his succession though he had already decided privately. No matter who the next monarch, be it Arlais or an unborn son, should he die before either was of age Gwen and Merlin would be joint protectors until they were of age. That was an understanding the three had between them although none of them wanted to consider the possibility of it ever happening.  
  
Whether Arlais would be in the line of succession or not did not concern Arthur as much as it concerned other men. There had not been a queen regent in Camelot for over two hundred years when that dreadful business with Leir where he produced no male heir and the kingdom was fought over between his three daughters before the entire thing was partitioned leaving the last Queen of Camelot, Cordelia, with what had been left up until recently with Uther Pendragon’s death. Now Arthur was leading Camelot back to its greater glory and surpassing it. One thing they feared the most was that history would repeat itself.  
  
-  
  
“If they mention the word ‘succession’ one more time I will _sack_ the lot of them,” Arthur had complained to Merlin when the issue came up again in July that year. “I’ve only been king for _five years_ , for the love of God! Can’t I at least get a decade under my crown before they start planning my funeral?”  
  
Merlin laughed. “They’re just jealous because they’ll be in the ground _long_ before Arlais becomes queen of Camelot.” Arthur nodded but said nothing. The advisor tilted his head, “Assuming of course that Gwen has another girl. I personally think this obsession over the tiny bump under Gwen’s dress is silly.”  
  
Arthur agreed. Frankly he couldn’t wait to bury the lot of his council. He even considered giving all of them retirement but most of them would rather work until the bitter end than spend time with their equally old wives. There were even rumours that one Lord Angus was having an affair with Lord Duncan’s daughter—thirty years his junior. This rumour had reached Arthur’s ears from Gwen who heard it from her ladies-in-waiting Lady Leon and Lady Kay, (Nora and Gladys respectfully), both of whom knew Duncan’s daughter personally.  
  
Merlin even heard about it: “The worst part of it is that apparently Sir Henry’s son who is yet to be knighted—”  
  
“When is the next knighting ceremony?” Arthur asked, reminded of that tiny detail.  
  
“Yuletide,” Merlin reminded him, and went on. “As I was saying Young Harry is supposedly courting Lord Duncan’s daughter and he even plans to marry her. What makes it worse is that Lord Duncan doesn’t have a clue any of this is going on in regards to Young Harry or Lord Angus.”  
  
Arthur smirked, “You can’t tell him; he might just die of the shock. He is an old man, after all.”  
  
“He’d want Harry’s guts for his wife’s garters,” Merlin agreed with a smile. “And he’d probably challenge Angus to a duel, old time style. I swear Duncan is so overprotective he doesn’t realise just what a _viper_ his daughter is.”  
  
“It certainly is a lesson for how not to bring up your daughter,” Arthur chuckled. “One you and I should take careful note of.”  
  
“Indeed,” Merlin said before turning the discussion back to the original topic. “So, everyone is starting to get het up about Gwen, Arlais and the new baby?”  
  
“They never shut up about it.”  
  
“It makes me glad that my daughter isn’t a princess then,” Merlin said distractedly.  
  
Arthur glanced at him carefully. “Well, she _could_ have been.”  
  
“But she’s not now,” Merlin said firmly. “Her grandfather disowned her mother and labelled both her and my wife no family of his... and now my wife is dead.”  
  
It was nearly three years ago now for Merlin but the pain over his wife’s death still hung over him like a black cloud. Arthur knew that Merlin had not shared the same overwhelming passion that he himself had with Gwen, but they had nonetheless loved each other dearly. Had she not passed away three days after Little Vivienne was born they might have been onto their second child by now too.  
  
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean—” Arthur began guiltily.  
  
Merlin shook his head. “No, it is fine it’s just... Her aunt tried to contact me recently.”  
  
Arthur’s eyes widened. “You mean--? When was this?”  
  
“Last month,” the warlock confessed, leaning again the table. “She said she wanted to help me mend the bridge between myself and her brother for Vivienne’s sake. She also said she wanted to meet her great-niece.”  
  
“What did you say?”  
  
“I told her she was more than welcome to come and visit us and I would be grateful of her help,” he explained sadly. “That was weeks ago now. I think he must have realised what was going on and put a stop to it. I actually hope the old girl is all right; she may have called me a simpleton and common warlock last time she was here but she seemed to genuinely want to try and fix things.”  
  
Arthur nodded. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Merlin sighed. “No it’s fine. I don’t want to trouble you with my problems—how is Gwen coping with her pregnancy? Is everything all right?”  
  
The king couldn’t help but smile in pleasure. Gwen was at that stage in the pregnancy, the one where her libido doubled and she became all the more needy for him to appease her needs. There were times when he just walked through the door of their chambers and she had straddled him in less than ten seconds. He was surprised she had the energy and was too proud to admit he couldn’t keep up at times. The other day she had jumped on him no less than four times during the day and once more at night. That was a record!  
  
“Yes,” he said smugly. “Everything is fine and Gwen is coping with it— _very well_.”  


* * *

  
  
Gwen went into labour a few days after Yuletide. It was early in the morning of the day after Yuletide when she shook Arthur awake urgently to tell him that her pains had begun. After that the entire court swung into action as she was led off to her confinement. The nobility and common folk gathered in the great hall and square to await news. Everyone had their fingers crossed behind their backs.  
  
During all the commotion Merlin, just as he had last time when Arlais was on her way, managed to get Arthur away from the pestering nobility and into his private study. They could hear servants running around outside, being dictated to by Gwen’s ladies-in-waiting. Then moments later the court physician Afallach and the court healer Elaine made their way towards where Gwen was confined.  
  
Arthur sat silently with his head in his hand. Merlin poured him a drink. “Doesn’t seem all that long ago since we were here last time, when Arlais was on the way.”  
  
The king looked up.  
  
“I was so frightened,” he muttered.  
  
Merlin handed him the goblet; Arthur gulped it as if it were water. The warlock smiled, “At least this time you can relax a bit more.”  
  
“That’s just it,” Arthur confessed with a tint of worry in his tone. “Last time I was terrified this would go the same way as—anyway, now I’m frightened that I’m not frightened enough. There are still risks and I just...”  
  
Merlin wanted to reassure him but he knew that every birth carried its risks. He also couldn’t assure Arthur that everything would be fine. He was certain it would be as Gwen had given birth before and was a lot stronger that most women... but that didn’t save his own wife. That scolded his heart. The last thing he wanted was for Arthur to go through what he did.  
  
“If there are any problems then we’ll be told,” Merlin finally said to him. “But I’m sure everything will be fine. All the signs say that Gwen will be fine.”  
  
Arthur managed to smile. “I don’t suppose the signs have declared whether it’ll be a boy or a girl.”  
  
“I think it’s going to be a boy.”  
  
“Tell the court that,” the king chuckled nervously. “They will wet themselves with the anticipation.”  
  
“What do you want it to be?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Arthur said honestly. “I’d like it to be a boy although not so much for the male heir but...”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“I suppose,” the young man said hesitantly. “I suppose the reason I would like to have a son is because I want to prove to myself that I can be a better father than mine was.”  
  
“You can do that with Arlais.”  
  
“Arlais is different,” he went on. “She’s a girl and fathers... well, you know we tend to go easier on our daughters. Father always preferred Morgana’s side of things to mine. It’d difficult to be harsh to a daughter but so easy to be harsh to a son...”  
  
Merlin grinned. “You’ll be a great father to your son! It’s alright to be a little harsh on a boy at times, especially if he’s going to be king one day.”  
  
“Yes,” Arthur nodded. “I’d like to have a son sometime. That said I don’t mind if all I ever have are daughters. Although that said I think I’d miss the father-son bond.”  
  
The warlock knew what he meant. There were often times when Merlin wished he could have had a son. His reasons were different. He had never really known his father. He had doubted his ability to be a father until Vivienne came along. The reason he missed having a son at times was fear of what might happen when he died. Vivienne had inherited his magic but as a girl she could never keep the dragon in line. It frightened him sometimes.  
  
He smiled weakly. “I know what you mean.”  
  
Arthur sighed and put his cup down.  
  
“Then again,” he suddenly said, changing his tone, “I have liked the last three and a half years of it just because Arlais, Guinevere and myself. I sometimes worry another child will hurt the balance.”  
  
“I think you might yet have even more children,” Merlin said with an even wider grin. “I see you with four or five, maybe even six!”  
  
Arthur’s eyes widened and he gulped, “Six children? God, no! How would I handle six children? There are times when I can barely handle the one...”  
  
“I said four, five or six.”  
  
“I think Gwen would kill me if we stretched to six children,” Arthur said seriously. “I don’t even have enough names for six children, even if we had three of each; what if all six were girls?”  
  
“Calm down!” Merlin laughed. “You haven’t even seen the second one yet!”  
  
“I don’t really want any more than three...”  
  
“You don’t get to choose these things when you share your bed with your wife every night...”  
  
Before Arthur would reply the side door of the study swung open. The two men looked over but there was no one there. It was then they looked down and saw little Arlais standing there. She had been woken by all the rushing and dashing about the castle outside her room.  
  
Merlin took the little girl’s hand and led her over to the table.  
  
“Hello there,” he said as the tired child plodded towards her father. “Woken by all the excitement, were you?”  
  
Arlais scrambled onto Arthur’s lap, curling up against him and snuggling herself in his left shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her to keep her from falling off and rocked her gently. She nodded tiredly at Merlin before looking up at her father.  
  
“Is mama having the baby?” she said in that soft, quiet and curious voice most children her age had. It tugged the heart strings of all that heard it. “Is it a boy or a girl?”  
  
Arthur sighed. _The talk at court has even rubbed off on Arlais._  
  
“Yes, she’s having the baby but it’s not here yet” Arthur replied. “You’re going to be a big sister.”  
  
“Is the baby going to stay forever?” she asked, starting to wake up a bit. “Will it live with us all the time?”  
  
Arthur nodded. “I certainly hope so. It’ll be your little brother or sister. You’ll have to look after him or her.”  
  
“I hope it’s not a girl,” Arlais said suddenly thoughtful. “Vivie might get jealous if I have another little girl to play with.”  
  
Merlin looked down to conceal a smile. Arthur chuckled too.  
  
“Well, just in case it is a girl” the father said softly to the child, “you’ll have to nice and look after your little sister. Or brother as the case may be.”  
  
“What’s ‘the case may be’?” she suddenly asked.  
  
“Um, the way things turn out,” Arthur said, always hating to explain his choice of words. When he spoke to Arlais he hated talking down to her. Merlin was more at ease with putting on the enthusiastic voice and talking himself down to the level of a child. Arthur preferred to just talk; he never addressed Arlais as an adult (he wasn’t that stupid) but refused to patronise her.  
  
“What if it’s neither?” Arlais suddenly said.  
  
Arthur chuckled again. “Well it’s going to be one or the other...”  
  
“How do you know whether it’s a boy or girl?” she asked.  
  
“You can just... tell.”  
  
Arlais tilted her head, “How?”  
  
“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Arthur replied, shifting her a little on his knee as she began to slip down. “What do you think the difference between boys and girls are?”  
  
The little girl looked up thoughtfully before she made her response. The whole time Arthur and Merlin exchanged amused looks, moved by the child’s innocence.  
  
“Well,” she said, holding on to her father’s shirt. “Girls have long hair, and boys don’t. Girls also wear dresses and are pretty and play with dolls, and boys don’t.”  
  
“What do boys have?” Arthur asked.  
  
“Boys have short hair, and they wear trousers and they play rough.”  
  
Both the grown men sniggered at her assertion that boys were rougher than girls. She had obviously not been on the end of Guinevere's mood swings and appetites during this pregnancy, unlike her father. Although Arlais had never been a girly-girl she didn’t show much interest in swords or soldiers or fighting. She would probably become more interested once she grew older and stronger, but right now Arlais’s favourite thing was brush people’s hair.  
  
“Daddy,” she suddenly said after a long pause.  
  
Arthur looked at her, “yes?”  
  
“How do boys and girls happen? Like how is it _decided_?”  
  
“You mean when babies are born or just in general day life?”  
  
“Like when a babies born, how is it a boy or girl?”  
  
Arthur looked to Merlin for help, not knowing how to explain what she was asking. Merlin shrugged helplessly as he didn’t quite understand what Arlais wanted to know. Did she mean how could people tell a baby was a boy or girl when all babies were bald and unclothed? Or did she mean what great force decided what sex the bump inside her mother’s abdomen would be?  
  
“You can just tell,” Arthur finally said. “You... look down and you can see whether it is a boy or girl when it’s born.”  
  
“No!” Arlais said with frustration. “Who decides whether it’s a boy or girl?”  
  
“You mean _how_ do you get to be a boy or girl?”  
  
Arlais seemed to sigh in frustration and nodded her head. She reminded Arthur so much of Guinevere in that moment. Like mother, like daughter. “Yes,” she finally said.  
  
Arthur sat in silence. He didn’t actually know what made boys and what made girls. Nobody knew for certain how you got what gender. He assumed there was some biological reason. One thing for certain was that it wasn’t determined by any sky deities as he had to believe the gods or god had better things to do then decide what gender baby every person in the world was going to have.  
  
Yet he didn’t want to admit he didn’t know to Arlais when she was looking up at him curiously and expectantly assuming that he, as a grown up and her father, must know everything.  
  
“Well,” he said after a long pause. “It’s a random choice. Half the time it might be a boy, and half the time it might be a girl.”  
  
“But then they’d be equal numbers of boys and girls,” Arlais said thoughtfully. “How come some mummies have more boys than girls or more girls than boys?”  
  
There was another long pause as Arthur tried to think of a reply.  
  
“That’s because... it’s random, not equal” he finally said.  
  
Arthur then pretended to yawn and stood up with Arlais in his arms. He saw this as an opportunity to send her back to bed. He carried her back towards the door and her bedroom. As they left Merlin watched with amusement at the little princess’s awkward questions. He knew it was only a matter of time before Vivienne started launching them at him too.  
  
Once they reached Arlais’s bedroom Arthur tried to get the little girl to go to sleep, but she was still filled with questions.  
  
“But what if mummy has the baby while I’m sleeping?” she asked worriedly.  
  
“I’ll come and get you when the baby is born...”  
  
“Daddy...”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“How do babies get born?”  
  
“They come out of mummy’s tummy,” Arthur said, placing the little child back in bed. He smiled, “Good night...”  
  
“But how do they get _in_ there?” Arlais suddenly asked, not letting him get away that quickly. She chuckled innocently as her father stood staring at her, not knowing what to say. She had no idea why. “Like, how does the baby get in there? And how does it get out? Does it get out the same way it went in?”  
  
Arthur felt his cheeks flush.  
  
“Something like that,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s late Arlais and you should try and get to sleep.”  
  
“Will you tell me tomorrow?”  
  
He just smiled and kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, Arlais.”  


* * *

  
  
By the next morning there was still no baby.  
  
Hunith was serving Vivienne her breakfast when Merlin came wandering through the door, tired and drained. As soon as the two year old saw her father she rushed to him excitedly, forgetting the fresh porridge her grandmother had just made for her. Not that she minded.  
  
“Daddy!” she cried, lifting her arms to be picked up.  
  
“Vivie!” he said with equal enthusiasm.  
  
Merlin pulled Vivienne up to rest her against his hip. He carried her back to the table and to her breakfast. He placed down in the chair and stroked the top of her head as she picked up her spoon and started eating again. He praised her for doing so, “Good girl.”  
  
He then turned to his mother.  
  
“I’m sorry about this,” Merlin said guiltily. “You’ve been here four days and each day you’ve been the one looking after Vivienne while I’m off working...”  
  
Hunith smiled. “You know I don’t mind. I like spending time with Vivienne. She reminds me of you when you were her age.”  
  
Merlin nodded. “Well, she is a lot like me—unfortunately.”  
  
“There is nothing unfortunate about it,” Hunith assured him. “You never listened to a word anyone said and went your own way most of the time... but you were always a good boy.”  
  
The two of them stepped away as Vivienne went on eating, ignoring them. Merlin turned to his mother with a half smile and one eye on his daughter.  
  
“I worry sometimes,” he confessed.  
  
Hunith tilted her head, “About what?”  
  
“That she will turn out exactly like me,” he whispered back. “She already has the gift and if she’s anything like me it will get stronger.”  
  
“At least you can help her from an early age,” Hunith assured him with a gentle pat on the arm. “You should be proud she has turned out so well.”  
  
“Oh I am it’s just...” Merlin glanced fully over to the back of Vivienne’s head. Her already darkened hair was just three or four shades lighter than his hair. He wondered if just like his, her hair would be just a little lighter than jet black. “The longer time goes on and the more she becomes like me... the less she becomes like her mother.”  
  
Hunith sighed. She knew all too well what the loneliness of losing a partner was, and what it was like to raise a child that was different yet – ultimately – reminded you more of yourself than the partner you lost. Apart from having magic Merlin had always taken after her more than his father. In some ways she was glad Vivienne was primarily her son’s daughter; the thought of being faced with a reminder of his dead wife every day might prove more of a pain than a comfort.  
  
Nonetheless she reassured him. “I can tell she is _her_ daughter.”  
  
He nodded, “Yeah?”  
  
“It’s her face,” the grandmother said fondly. “It is a lot like yours but... I see her when I look her.”  
  
Merlin smiled. Yes, she did have her mother’s face. It was dainty and pretty. Her eyes – while blue like her father’s – were the same colour blue of her mother. Her hair – while brother like her father’s hair – had the same natural way of falling about her shoulders as his wife’s had done. In many ways Vivienne did take after her mother... but Merlin wished he could see it all the time.  
  
_“I’ve finished!”_ Vivienne declared in triumph.  
  
The father and grandmother returned to her side.  
  
“Well done,” Hunith replied. “You’re not hungry still? Don’t want any more?”  
  
Vivienne shook her head. “No thank you!”  
  
Merlin gave her a quick hug before turning back to his mother.  
  
“I should get back to Arthur,” he explained to her. “Gwen still hasn’t had the baby yet.”  
  
“I hope it’s not serious...”  
  
“No at all,” Merlin assured his mother with a smile. “It seems she hasn’t actually started having the baby yet but rather just in labour. According to the court healer she is moving along, just slowly.”  
  
Hunith sighed. “Poor thing—I know what it’s like to be in labour for days. You took your time, I remember.”  
  
Vivienne looked up at both of them.  
  
“How long did I take?” she asked innocently.  
  
_It was all over too quickly_ , Merlin lamented to himself. He managed to smile and kissed her forehead, “Not that long, sweetheart. Not that long.”  
  
“Has the king been to see her?” Hunith asked.  
  
“Yeah, he popped his head around the door at one stage after Elaine told us it was moving slow but surely,” he went on. “I think he must have quizzed her about Arlais’s embarrassing questions...”  
  
“What questions are they?”  
  
“The one about where babies come from.”  
  
Hunith laughed. “Oh, that age old one, is it?”  
  
Merlin was quite pleased that Vivienne, listening to this whole conversation, didn’t pose the question to him also. She was a bit too young to be all that interested in the existence of children. She probably still believed that she had just appeared one day and that was it.  
  
“Vivienne and I are making cakes today,” Hunith went on a moment later. Vivienne cheered as she said that. “If the king wants Arlais occupied while he waits for news then she is more than welcome to join us. I know we aren’t the best company for a princess but—”  
  
Merlin shook his head. “Don’t be silly! I think Arthur would be glad of it and so would Arlais. She and Vivienne play together a lot... and I think Arlais would enjoy cooking. It’ll be one skill she has achieved that her father never did.”  
  
He then looked to his own daughter.  
  
“Or Vivienne’s father ever did for that matter,” Merlin added jokily.  
  
He was _never_ the best cook himself.  


* * *

  
  
“Basically there is this egg...”  
  
Arthur explained to Arlais as she sat looking curiously up at him. Just as he had expected she had posed the question on babies again to him again. He had mentioned it to Gwen when he went to see her earlier. She had understandably been less interested in Arlais’s questions than she usually was due to the pain and pressure she was receiving try to give life to her second child. It had been going on for hours and the midwives told her that she was only half way there. Nonetheless she had the presence of mind to smile in between contractions and told Arthur to explain it to Arlais in the best way possible that won’t confuse her.  
  
That was easier said than done.  
  
“Where’s the egg?” Arlais asked.  
  
“It’s inside mummy,” he said, feeling his cheeks flush. “It’s inside mummy’s tummy.”  
  
“How did it get there?”  
  
“She makes it inside her,” he told her, not knowing anything about the process. Maybe if he or Merlin had found time to read some of Gaius’s medical books they would have understood better. “It’s like how a chicken makes eggs; the difference being that the egg stays inside the mummy rather than coming out.”  
  
Arlais nodded, confused. “And that egg hatches into a baby?”  
  
“Not exactly,” Arthur chuckled nervous. “The egg can’t grow into a baby without the help of... a daddy.”  
  
“So when a mummy marries a daddy the egg starts growing into a baby?” Arlais asked.  
  
“Sort of,” Arthur said, scratching his nose nervously. “You see inside the daddies there is a seed and in order for the egg to start growing that seed needs to be... planted.”  
  
“How?”  
  
“Well,” Arthur said, realising he had dug himself into a hole. Even if it wasn’t embarrassing enough talking about the facts of life, here he was trying to explain it for a _three year old_. “The seed goes from the daddy and into the mummy...”  
  
“Does she swallow it?” Arlais asked.  
  
Arthur nearly choked then but he carried on regardless. “So when it’s inside the mummy it starts growing and nine months later... you get a baby.”  
  
“So,” Arlais said, trying to get her head around her basic understand of seeds and eggs. “If a mummy swallows an apple seed... will a tree start growing inside her?”  
  
“No, only human...seeds.”  
  
He understood fully the ridiculousness of what he was saying. Eggs and seeds! He was surprised that Arlais still had questions to fire at him, although he acknowledged that he hadn’t completely answered the last one.  
  
“How did the seed get inside mummy?”  
  
Arthur bit his lips. “I put it there.”  
  
“How?” she asked, before a thought came to her. “Does it go through the tummy button?”  
  
Before Arthur could even squeak a reply Merlin appeared at the door to rescue him. “Vivienne and her granny are making cakes,” he declared to the room. “They’re at my chambers now and they want to know if you want to help.”  
  
As quickly as Arlais had become interested in the subject, she lost it. She leaped up from where she was sitting and ran out the door towards Merlin’s chambers where the cooking lesson was going on shouting, _“Yay!”_ before she disappeared.  
  
Merlin closed the door and Arthur slumped back in his chair.  
  
“Thank you,” he gasped in relief. “A moment longer and I think her head might have exploded from the nonsense I’ve just had to make up to explain procreation to her.”  
  
“Yes I heard a bit of it,” Merlin mocked, “A seed and an egg?”  
  
“What wrong with that?”  
  
“You could have left it at the egg growing inside the mummy bit,” Merlin told him, still in a teasing tone. “That would have settled her mind. She doesn’t know that the only reason a chicken lays eggs with chicks in them is because the cock has got to them.”  
  
Arthur glared at him, not appreciating that _pun_ he just made. Especially since he realised just how much of the conversation Merlin had overheard. He was both embarrassed and annoyed.  
  
“You mean you were listening all that time?”  
  
“Yeah”  
  
“And you didn’t rescue you me?”  
  
“I didn’t think you needed rescuing,” Merlin replied. “You started out so well.”  
  
Arthur was too tired to be angry at Merlin or reprimand him for listening in on the embarrassing fact that he was listening in to the king make a fool of himself over questions posed to him by his daughter. He rubbed his eyes with his hands.  
  
“I want my wife back!” he muttered wretchedly. “I hope this little one hurries up.”  
  
“The court is dying downstairs,” Merlin told him. “Some of them don’t seem to have slept since Gwen went into labour.”  
  
“Join the club.”  


* * *

  
  
It was late afternoon when Gwen finally gave birth to a little boy.  
  
As soon as the little child took his first breaths two messengers were sent off, one to the king and one to the anxiously waiting courtiers downstairs in the great hall. He ran excitedly down there and declared in a proud and enthusiastic voice to the nobility, _“It’s a boy, a healthy boy!”_ He left them to twitter excitedly as he opened a window to shout out to the commoners keeping vigil below. He cried, _“It’s a boy and the queen is well!”_ The crowd responded by cheering.  
  
For the next few hours all across the kingdom of Camelot and even Albion itself there were just people passing on the word. _“Camelot has a new prince and the queen is alive and well!”_  
  
Gwen say spread out against the pillows of her bed, exhausted and pleased. She had shut the nobility up finally by giving them their longed for prince. The moment she caught sight of her little son she felt overwhelmed with pride, one that she had forgotten about since the first moment she saw Arlais. That rush of unconditional love that remained unbroken to this day. Despite all the pain it reminded her how much so loved having children.  
  
She watched as Arthur paced about the room cradling the boy in his arms. He was no longer nervous when holding a baby, not like he had been when Arlais came. He felt at one with it, knowing exactly how to support the head.  
  
Arthur looked down at Llacheu; he was tiny in his arms, even smaller than he remembered Arlais being despite the fact that she had been early and his eyes were pitched shut. He almost looked angry like he hadn’t wanted to come out of him mother and into this world. He would get used to it.  
  
“I feel like withholding him a while longer,” Arthur confessed to his wife as he walked to sit back down beside her. He transferred his son from his arms into hers. “Make them suffer even longer while waiting to see him.”  
  
“I can barely believe he’s finally here,” Gwen said softly, holding Llacheu’s tiny wrist. “Our son, little Llacheu... Arlais will be so excited getting a little brother.”  
  
“It’s just what she wanted,” he replied.  
  
After a little while Arlais was given permission by the midwives to come in and meet her new younger sibling. She was led over to the bed by one of her mother’s ladies-in-waiting and sat beside Gwen on the bed while looking at the little baby.  
  
“What’s his name?” she asked.  
  
“Llacheu,” Gwen whispered back. “Speak quietly, he’s sleeping.”  
  
Arlais obeyed. “I like Llacheu. It’s a nice name and it suits him.”  
  
It was very befitting, a name so strongly associated with brightness and light. It was very fitting for a future king of the vast majority of Albion. Maybe one day it will be the whole of Albion? Only time would tell.  
  
“What have you been doing all day?” Gwen asked her little daughter.  
  
Arlais smiled excitedly back. “I made cakes with Vivienne and her grandmamma! We made lots and lots and lots! We handed them out to all the waiting the nobility and your ladies-in-waiting _but don’t worry_ ‘cause we saved some for your and daddy!”  
  
Gwen made a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness, I thought I’d missed out then!”  
  
There was a moment of silence when Arlais stared at her sleeping little brother. It was only then that is occurred to the little child that life had really changed. Llacheu was here now and he was staying. She looked to her father who was sat beside the bed.  
  
“Daddy,” she whispered carefully. “Will you and mummy still like me as much as you like Llacheu?”  
  
Both Arthur and Gwen’s eyes widened.  
  
“Of course we will,” Arthur said, stroking her cheek.  
  
“You’re our little girl,” Gwen said brushing a strand of Arlais’s hair back. “That will never change.”  
  
“Thanks,” Arlais said quietly. There followed another pause before she spoke again, “Mummy?”  
  
Gwen smiled, “Yes?”  
  
“How did Llacheu get out of your tummy?”


End file.
